


Kiss of Death

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: nfacommunity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dream and a case unsettle Gibbs.  Tony knows how to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss of Death

 

“Osculation. Jethro, this poor gentleman died from a kiss.” Ducky looked down at the body in front of him, and Gibbs felt Tony come up behind him.

 

“The kiss of death, Duckman?” Tony asked, irreverently, looking over Gibbs’ shoulder to see the body.

 

“Quite, Anthony.” Ducky nodded. Gibbs looked at the body again, and frowned. He looked familiar, but something was wrong.

 

“Gee, Boss. He looks an awful lot like you.” Tony frowned too, and Gibbs looked at the body for one last time. The face had changed. It did look like him. He shuddered in revulsion, and woke up.

 

* * *

Gibbs growled around his cup of coffee, watching the team move around the bullpen in synchronized efficiency. It didn’t calm him like it normally did. He sighed, drained the rest of the coffee from his cup, and threw it harshly into the trashcan. He quirked a brow at DiNozzo who nodded and watched him go. On the way out, he could hear Elly start talking about him. He was half-tempted to make Mark the security guard go make the run while he stood and listened, but he didn’t. He needed to move. That dream had bothered him more than he knew. And for some reason, his gut was tingling that it was a warning.  

 

After buying his coffee, he stood outside, staring up at the clouds for a moment before heading back into the building. He shook his head when Mark’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. When he entered the bullpen again, he paused just in time to hear DiNozzo say something about leaving it alone. He rolled his eyes and stepped in, keeping his comment to himself.

 

A few moments later, the phone rang. He lifted it with a sense of dread. It was Dispatch, of course. “Agent Gibbs, we’ve got a body in the Potomac. It’s a Marine wearing Dress Blues.”

 

Gibbs growled his reply and stood up, grabbing his gun and badge. “C’mon, let’s go. Got a dead body in the river.”

 

“Oooh,” Tony quipped. “Half-decayed corpse. My favorite.” Gibbs reached over to headslap him, and they all walked out to the car.

 

When they arrived at the crime scene, they looked down at the dead man, and Gibbs had to steady himself to prevent a flinch. “Duck,” he commented, eyeing the position of the body – it was exactly like it had been in the dream – “Humor me. Check the guy’s lips thoroughly.”

 

“Is there something we need to know, Jethro? Other than the fact that this individual bears a striking resemblance to yourself.”

 

“Naw, Duck. Just a hunch.” He started the team on their specific jobs, and set about to interviewing witnesses with Bishop.

 

* * *

“Talk to me,” Gibbs demanded as he strode in to the bullpen.

 

Tony grabbed the remote and pulled the information up on the screen. “Gunnery Sergeant Silus Lesser. Poor guy.” He didn’t comment beyond that, but Gibbs had a pretty good idea what he was going to say. Going through any kind of class or squad with the name “Lesser” didn’t bode well for his social life. “He was … unmarried. He’d been divorced two times, was dating around, his coworkers said. He was retired, but hadn’t been for long. Seems he served the full twenty.”

 

“He was into glass and metal work, Boss,” Tim began. “He was well-known throughout the area for his skills. I’m surprised that you hadn’t heard of him. His blog is called ‘Bits and Bobs.’ He took orders for specialized parts for all kinds of things. He even did a lot of work for the Steampunk club.” Gibbs neither knew nor cared what a Steampunk was, especially if it had no bearing on his case.  

 

“Any enemies that you could tell?”  

 

Bishop took this one. “No, Gibbs. As far as we can tell, everybody who knew him knew he was a bit surly, but they really liked him. Between his work for them and the fact that he protected the people in his neighborhood, he was really considered a hero.”

 

There was another similarity. He blinked. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Keep digging. I’m goin’ to see Ducky.”

 

He entered the ME’s domain and gave a half-smile. His old friend stood, bent over the body, whispering something to him. “And I am certain, that had you known, you might have made a different choice, my dear boy.”

 

“What ya got, Duck?” Gibbs stepped closer, and waited for the report.

 

“I would love to know where you got your information, Jethro, but you were correct. Gunnery Sergeant Lesser died by means of osculation.” He opened his mouth to explain, and Gibbs beat him to it.

 

“Kissing.” Gibbs felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

 

“Yes. Quite. It seems that he ingested a substance to which he was highly allergic. The result was cardiac arrest and death.”

 

“What was it?’ Gibbs was curious what he’d got all over his lips that had killed him.

 

With a roll of his eyes, Ducky commented, “Shellfish, Jethro. The poor lad was allergic to shellfish.”

 

“Deathly so, apparently,” Palmer’s voice piped up from the corner where he was organizing something.

 

Now it was Gibbs’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks, Duck.” He paused. “Was the allergy in his jacket?”

 

“No, Jethro, but that doesn’t mean anything. People develop allergies all the time. If he avoided eating anything but the things he knew, he could have lived his whole life without getting sick from anything. Or, perhaps, while serving, something made him mildly sick, and he knew to avoid it from then on.” Ducky shrugged. “I once knew a young lady who …” Gibbs tuned him out, and with a wave, walked back up to the bullpen. Now that they knew the how, and the fact that it most likely was an accident, it was, as he’d heard DiNozzo say once or twice, all over but the crying.

 

* * *

 

He sat downstairs, slowly sipping at his bourbon, considering the case. It had been a strange case. He’d had a few like that, and he remembered most of them. However, this one struck him hard. Maybe it was the fact that he was a fellow Gunny, a fellow divorcé, and a fellow craftsman. There were too many similarities between himself and Gunny Lesser for him to pass this off as just another case.

 

He sat quietly, not even moving to work on the frame of the boat in front of him. He heard the door open and close, but the sound and footfalls were familiar, so he didn’t stir. As expected, Tony came stepping down the stairs and sat down on the seat. “Tough one, huh?” Gibbs grunted his reply. “I remember this case in Baltimore,” Tony began. “Guy was a college athlete. He was a freshman at Morgan State. Basketball player. His dad was rich, his mom had died…” Gibbs could see where this was going, but he let Tony talk.   “He was the victim of an MVA. A drunk driver hit him and broke his spine. He wasn’t ever able to walk again. It was a small thing, and the guy lived, for chrissakes, but it just hit me so hard I saw stars for about a week. Then, I went to the Y, played a few rounds of B-ball, and got back to work. I still think about that guy from time to time. Last time I was up there, for that last case of ours, I ran into him. He was running a gym for paraplegics and had done pretty well for himself.”

 

“Yeah.” Gibbs appreciated the commentary. He knew what Tony was trying to do. It was slightly different in this case, since the Gunny had died, but he nodded his thanks anyway. He handed over a glass of bourbon and sighed. For a long moment, he just looked at Tony. Their shared gaze intensified a little, and Gibbs frowned. “No date tonight?” Since Zoë had left, Tony had gone back to playing the field.

 

“No, no date. It’s a school night. I try to respect that most of the time.” Tony snorted at his own words.

 

“ _Try_ being the operative word.” Now it was Gibbs’ turn to snort.  

 

“Well, yeah. Besides, you needed me more than I needed a one-night stand.”

 

Gibbs grunted again. There was something shifting between them, and he had a feeling that was what the dream was pushing him toward. “Had a dream last night.” He waved his hand, trying to convey what he wanted to say without actually _saying_ it.

 

“Let me guess: in it, a guy dies because of a kiss.” Gibbs nodded. “That’s pretty damn hinky, boss, but we’ll take what we can get. I like getting home at a decent time for a change.”

 

“Which is why you’re here.” He grinned. The irony _was_ funny.

 

“Well, there’s that.” Tony grinned back. “So, ah,” his grin turned shy, and Gibbs raised his brow in curiosity. “The other reason was that I was thinking, and this seemed like a good time to broach the subject.” He looked down at the floor, and Gibbs stepped closer, sticking two fingers under Tony’s chin. It had always been a sign between them, and Tony caught the meaning. “It … uh, seems like things are changing between us, Gibbs, and I don’t know where we’re headed. I’ve got an idea, but if I’m wrong, it could go very badly between us. So. I wanted to bring it up and put it out there, but … you can correct me if I’m wrong, or stop me at any point…”

 

Gibbs took that moment to do just that. He slid the hand under Tony’s chin along his neckline, grinning darkly at the shivers he got in response.   “You tell me now, Tony, if this wasn’t what you meant …” He telegraphed his intentions, and instead of turning away, Tony tilted his head, angled it a little bit, and their lips met.

 

Tony settled his warm hand on the back of Jethro’s neck, and pressed them closer together. Warm lips caressed his own, emphasized by little nips. Jethro pulled his hand away, sliding it around Tony’s waist to settle on his ass. He drew the other one around to meet it, splaying it up on his back, keeping him close.

 

Tony pulled away, his eyes dark and blown, his breathing ragged. “God, Jethro,” he muttered. After catching his breath, he licked his lips and lowered his head again. This time, Jethro was the one to nip gently at his lips, and to catalogue every little response he got. The two of them stood there, kissing. Jethro heard himself groan, and as he slid his hand down to palm Tony’s ass, groping a little as he did, Tony groaned back.

 

For the moment, it was enough that the two of them could stand there, safe in each other’s arms, kissing deeply. When they finally pulled apart, Tony snorted. “Well, at least it wasn’t the kiss of death.”

 

Rolling his eyes at his lover, Gibbs replied, “Only death I want you to have is a little one.” The joke caught Tony by surprise, and he laughed deeply. Gibbs stood there grinning. Now, he definitely was in a better place than Lesser had been. When Tony had finished laughing, Gibbs drew him close again, and sighed, resting his forehead against Tony’s in contentment. “Thanks, Tony.”

 

Tony drew him closer, hugged him tight, and whispered in his ear. “Thank _you._ ” After a few more moments, they separated. “So, I better go home tonight. I’d like to take you out tomorrow, if we don’t have a pressing case.”

Gibbs nodded, and drained his glass. “I’d like that, yeah. Let me know.”

 

“Will do. Night, Jethro.” Tony started up the stairs, but Gibbs called him back. “Yeah?”

 

“One for the road.” He stepped closer and kissed him softly, feathering his lips against Tony’s cheek in a soft touch.

 

“One for the road.” And with a bright, enigmatic smile, Tony turned around and was gone.

 

 


End file.
